


Truths May Vary

by isengard



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Mental Illness, emperor eye meta, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees the plays as they happen, first in front of his eyes, then on the court, a dim echo like a shadow always swirling just behind his peripheral vision of younger faces, different uniforms, shorter chins and thinner ankles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truths May Vary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viascos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viascos/gifts).



> for [vicky](http://vickah.tumblr.com), my light

“I can't imagine _anyone_ getting past that center,” Kotaro says nervously, tapping his water bottle against his thigh. “Glad he wasn't playing when we went up against them.”

“Of course he wasn't,” Akashi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. “I made it very clear to Atsushi that he wasn't to stand in our way.”

He can feel Kotaro and Reo exchange a look over his head, but neither of them is foolish enough to say anything.

“It should be interesting,” he says, letting the events play out in front of his eyes, a film projected on a screen that only he can see. “Shuutoku has Ootsubo, he'll give Atsushi's friend, Tatsuya, a lot of trouble. I don't see Miyaji getting past Atsushi, but Shintarou can shoot from anywhere, and those shots will be out of Atsushi's reach, for the most part.” He frowns. “But Shintarou needs his time, and Tatsuya won't give him that.”

“Unless he and his point guard pull that stunt again,” Reo says.

“Ah,” Akashi smiles. “I don't think Kensuke plans to take his eyes off Kazunari for one moment. No, this match will go to Yousen.” He sits back, pleased to have clarity once more.

The clock starts. Akashi doesn't need to state the obvious to his teammates: Atsushi gets the ball, taps it towards Tatsuya without so much as raising his heels from the floor. They can't make out distinctive facial features from where they sit in the stands, but Akashi sees Ootsubo grind his teeth all the same, sees Atsushi's disinterested expression as he lopes down into position under his hoop, sees the set line of Shintarou's mouth as he waits for a pass from his point guard that is unlikely to come anytime soon.

“He's too far back,” Reo notes. “And the rest of his team is getting slaughtered by defense.” He sounds almost contrite. “Do you really think we could've beat these guys with that monster playing?”

“It's irrelevant,” Akashi says irritably. “I don't 'think' anything about it. Rakuzan's power is absolute. Atsushi would never defy me to test that.”

Reo stays quiet after that, and Akashi loses himself in the game once more.

He sees the plays as they happen, first in front of his eyes, then on the court, a dim echo like a shadow always swirling just behind his peripheral vision of younger faces, different uniforms, shorter chins and thinner ankles. He wonders, as he so often does, what they would be like now if they hadn't – -

\- - “Seijuurou,” someone says, entirely too close and too loud. Akashi flinches, then reprimands himself for doing so. He glares around at Reo and Kotaro, but they don't seem to have heard it.

“Seijuurou, it's time for your evening meds, honey.”

“What?” Akashi snaps his head around. “Be quiet, you're breaking my concentration.”

“I'm gonna lift your eyepatch so you can see me, okay, honey?”

Akashi hisses. Someone touches his face with cool fingers, and then ugly light floods his vision, a full-figured nurse in a blue uniform holds a cup out to him expectantly. “You want water, or chocolate milk?”

“Wa – chocolate milk will be fine,” Akashi says, trying to keep his voice even. “Make it quick; I'm in the middle of an important game.”

“Sure thing, honey,” the nurse says, handing him a carton with a straw.

“It's a qualifying round,” Akashi adds, taking the pills.

“Mmhmm,” the nurse nods. “Let's see your arm, Seijuurou.”

“No,” Akashi says, drawing his arms around himself. “I told you, I don't want that treatment anymore. It makes it too difficult for me to play.”

The nurse makes a sympathetic sound and pries his wrist away, rubs a cotton pad across the inside of his elbow. “I'm sorry, Seijuurou, but this medicine is too important to skip. Your family wants you on it; that way you can get better and go back and live with them. Isn't that what you want?”

“My family?” Akashi's vision swims ever so slightly as the needle presses in. “Has Tetsuya contacted you?”

“Hm? You'll have to speak up, honey.”

“I _am_ speaking up,” Akashi tries to say, but he can't seem to hear himself say it. The light is too bright. He reaches for his eyepatch, his fingers get lost around the hinge of his jaw.

Someone says, “Let me fix that for you,” and abruptly, Akashi's world goes dark.

*

Hours later, he's stiff from sitting, waiting. But it's worth it, when he finally hears the sound he's been sitting and waiting for: the bounce of a basketball, the echo it makes as it springs off the polished floor of a court and into someone's waiting hand.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Akashi says, watching as the figure in front of him stills and turns.

“Aw, don't be like that, Akashi,” Daiki grins, tossing the ball up and spinning it on his finger. “You know practice isn't really my style.”

“I'm sure the high school coaches who've been scouting you love to hear that,” Akashi says dryly. “It's going to be different, you know.”

Daiki shrugs. “Wanna play?” 

“No,” Akashi says. “I'm tired.” And he is. He's achingly, bone-deep tired, it's a struggle just to hold this conversation. “Why don't you play Ryouta instead.”

“I'm here, Aominecchi!” comes another voice from across the gym. “Ooh, Akashicchi's here too! Are you going to watch, captain?”

Akashi's already seen this match, but he agrees to watch anyways. Everything goes as expected, albeit somewhat slower than usual. He doesn't know if Daiki and Ryouta's movements are slower, or if his awareness of them is, but it puts him in a state of unease regardless, rather like a dull pain in the crease of his arm.

*

“Akashi seems to be doing well today,” Nurse Kabashima says, nodding approvingly in the young man's direction. “Still playing with those funny little toys, I see.”

“And still wearing the eyepatch,” Nurse Adachi sighs, making a note on her clipboard. “He'll go blind in the other eye too if he doesn't start using it soon.”

“What do you think he's seeing, when he does this?” Kabashima asks.

Adachi looks up. Seijuurou's little plastic figurines are lined up in some kind of formation on the table, and he's staring directly at them, fingers folded together under his chin, his blind eye moving sightlessly from side to side.

She shakes her head, at a loss. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> my own take on "it was all a dream", apparently. I worry about Akashi too much.
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
